Loosely translated it means mixed greens with bacon but I prefer the way our Franco brothers and sisters say it.

Anyway, I was sent this article clipping out of the New York times of 101 Simple Meals and thought I'd take a shot at this particular recipe. It looked relatively painless and I already had some of the primary ingredients in my fridge from the weekend.

Here's how it went down:

Layed out the ingredients: good bacon, large eggs, frisée salad and sherry vinegar.

Then I boiled the eggs. The recipe called on me to poach, but I had neither the energy or knowledge to do this simple task. I made a call to a friend to ask, but getting a voicemail greeting reminded me that I should just go ahead hard cook the damn eggs. I did such. As I did that, I cooked the Vermont maple cured bacon in a skillet.

With my limited counter space (8 inches thank you very much) I peeled the eggs, and degreased the bacon. I cleaned the tomatoes which wasn't part of the recipe, but I added them anyway. Finally, I deglazed the skillet with the wine vinegar and made some type of basic dressing. I cheated a little because there wasn't enough of it by adding some ExVeeOhSquared (extra virgin olive oil) to buff it up a bit. I dashed a little black pepper for the sake of dashing a little pepper. I think it was fun, I'm not sure.

With the eggs boiled, the bacon cooked I then prepared for the step I like to call the "human food processor." With the eggs still piping hot I coarsely chopped them up alongside the bacon and set them aside as I plated the greens.

I tossed the tomatoes, eggs and bacon haphazardly onto the pre-dressed frisée (read: store bought bag salad), poured myself a glass of wine, leaned on the counter and ate while I watched Entourage.

I've decided to try a socio-economic experiment. Premise? Living on $50 a week. Now before you go scoffing at the premise remember that this is New York City where $5000 monthly rent paid by people who make $50 per minute. Neither of those are me, but that should make this experiment that much easier, right? Anyone? Hello??

Costs will be logged over the next week and barring any medical emergencies I will try and spend less than $50 over the course of seven days, starting with today. Basically it breaks down to $7.14 a day. I did some rough research on my expenditures and it's no a stretch for me to say that over the course of a week, I tallied up about $50-60 per day. That's just gross.

So here I embark on this experiment spawning from a random conversation over dinner ($56) after a game of golf ($38) where I lost five golf balls ($10). Can I do it? We'll see... I certainly wouldn't bet on myself.

Notes: this doesn't include my monthly expenses such as rent, car, bills, etc because there's just no way to take that out of the picture. This isn't to see if I can sustain life on $50 a week here in New York City... that's an ignorant notion. However, I will not use alternative means to supplement my stipend, it's just a countdown from 50 bucks. Oh, and what do I get for winning this bet? Nothing but bragging rights and what I predict to be some left over ramen noodle wrappers.

Recently I was in the AAFilm Lab's 72 hour film shootout with 9 other Asians from New York City. At 8pm on Friday night, we were given a topic. "Elizabeth Ong is missing" and were tasked with filming a short less than 5 minutes.

There were strings attached:1. Elizabeth Ong must be connected to the actors2. Elizabeth Ong must play an important role in the film3. Elizabeth Ong must not visually appear in the film.

Crap.

Well, 1 City, 54 hours, 5 locations, 8 precarious shots later, a film was born. Before you click play make sure you read the theme and rules again first: Elizabeth Ong is missing.

This shootout is a contest. There are 58 other teams in other cities. We'll see if it goes anywhere, fingers crossed. It was definitely a blast. Make sure you comment and rate it on YouTube.

Welcome Cana Grace Overby! Daughter to Kristina and Dusty as of 1:31 a.m., Tuesday, June 5th. At a healthy 9lbs, 2 ounces you would have been in a title' bout with me for the WHWBC's (world heavy weight baby championships).

There isn't a video for Obadiah Parker's cover for "Hey Ya" by Outkast. But in my ever ongoing quest to 'mix-it-up' I found this video of a designer who used freestyle animation to make a video for it... the song and video are well worth your two minutes:

If you're interested in winning a free copy of this CD, it might be worth 2.5 seconds of your time and popping over to Gear Patrol and entering the giveaway for an advanced copy of the CD. Advanced copy doesn't really matter so much now that the CD's actually out, but hey - a free CD is a free CD... is a free CD.

Oh, and the new CD is pretty damn good. It's a departure from their last one, but a good one.

10. I've been swallowed up amidst the work of helping produce an industry commercial for work. That's been an exciting, hair-raising, yet fun experience I hope to do more of in the future. I can't really spell out the details since it's nothing for public release yet, but just know I enjoyed it.

9. Joined Facebook. Never thought I would or should, but here I am amidst a 'poking' war with Will Acker that will probably never cease.

8. To answer the question about dating... no I have not been dating but yes I've been going on dates.

7. Let the wedding season begin. For those of you who know Diana Bundy, I'll be at her wedding this weekend so looking forward to seeing some of you all there.

6. Three words: Entourage and Lost* *which is finally getting better.

5. Enjoying after work Happy Hours, even if they're not with people from my actual office. FYI, Eric + Champagne = headache.

4. My allergies are raging all out warfare against my sinuses. As of this morning, they're winning.

3. Friends of mine were in town a couple of weeks ago for a golf weekend and we got to play the Black course at Bethpage on Long Island. It's ranked one of the top courses in the US and, I believe, the #1 public course period. It was an incredible experience. I almost cried, but then I didn't because I was spending my time trying to fight out of one of their 118 bunkers. I shot a 108. Sound like a lot? Well... they've got some ridiculous course difficulty rating, like 148 out of 150. Thanks.

2. My car was attacked by burglars/vandals/assholes last weekend. It couldn't have happened at a more inopportune time, but it's New York so whatever. Long story short, I didn't get anything resolved with that, but I did end up with a primo spot in the garage I park in right up front and next to the security booth. Negotiation (and pity) at it's very best.

1. And finally, for those of you who don't already know... I've been working on a pet project that's growing into something much larger, and will hopefully continue to do so. It's another blog (yeah yeah). Read on:

Imagine a bunch of men's magazines got together and decided to aggregate all the interesting, latest gear and stories they published. Then these same magazines took on all the websites they read to get their news and mix that all together. Then they decided to mix it all up with great photos. Then they decided to put it all on a blog. What would that look like?

Well, I present to you: Gear Patrol. A site I've started with Brian Huang, a couple of writers, an intern and a tenacious desire to become the definitive men's lifestyle and leisure journal. Click on the logo to go take a read.

At 1:35am this morning, April 7th, 2006, my dear friend Katie left this earth for a much better place. Having lost only her battle to Leukemia, not her grasp of vitality and courage. I'm say with a calming confidence that she's casting her calming gaze on all of us with an effervescent smile. Her gleaming personality and an unfathomable caring soul shining through with no worldly encumbrances.

Katie's battle with cancer was only surpassed by her own ability to handle the entire battle with dignity, bravery and more grace than I could ever imagine one human having. And with that being said, my smile widens knowing how incredibly lucky I was to have known Katie and being honored to have as such a large part in my lifelong memories.

There hasn't been much mention of Katie's battle with Leukemia here since I first learned of her diagnosis as that's not what I think the last few months have been about. It has, to me, been about spending time with her newly wed and loving husband Keith Taylor - a stalwart hero to any man for sure - in Atlanta, GA. It has been about the two of them enjoying the onset of Spring in the comforts of their own home, together. And now, it is about Katie being with the good Guy upstairs. No pain, no suffering and beautiful memories.

Katie, I'll miss you. I'll miss you something mighty. Look down on all of us, and though you're the only person that will get what I'm about to say I know that you're laughing... and that makes me smile.

I got the opportunity to get press-day passes to the New York International Auto Show this year and it was definitely awesome. Not only did I not have to fight any crowds, but the cars were pristine, the press-releases were ongoing, and the models (ahem) were out demonstrating (ahem) the vehicles finer points.

There were some incredible vehicles there and a lot of newly released cars I can't even begin to explain. Just click-thru the link below to the entire slideshow (warning: there's 328 photos) and see if there's anything that tickles your fancy.

Well, I don't how much time John Denver spent in Vail but I'll at least be out there for the weekend. Good times.

Sorry for the lacking of posts this week. My immune system finally succumbed to either the weather changes or our office building's recirculated air so posting has been a little low on the priorities. Not that you all aren't the most. Important. People. Ever.

It appears Colorado's weather isn't cooperating with our trip but, oh... I will ski. Even if I have to wear ice skates to do it.

Remember the band, Travis? Remember when Coldplay was good? Remember in the 90's when half the bands you loved were British or wannabe Brit's? Well, that 'era' really never stopped for me. Of course, my hair reflects otherwise but who's counting?

As my quest continues to find music that isn't thrust upon me thru the American Idol marketing juggernaut, or Grey's Anatomy soundtrack supervisors I came across this fine group called 'Thirteen Senses'. Click here to visit their myspace page. The song "Lights Out" (no, not a remake of Westside Connection's anthem) was what I wanted to plug. Alas, it wasn't to be found on imeem. Bastards.

I do seem to have a propensity for finding myself part of rain-soaked random nights out in New York. Not only do they manage to ruin shoes, spirits, and straight-from-the-salon hair dos (not mine) but they usually end up with me, amidst some most random company. In the case of Saturday night... at a sports pub, an underground cavern/club and at a late night bar/cafe with a bachelorette party. Um, huh? Yeah, I'm not so sure either. Thought I'd share the evening's mayhem thru a map because hey, everyone loves maps.

Scruffy Duffy's - Irish pub meets over-testosterone-ized sports bar. La Caverna - Underground Lower East Side club for art-types plagued with identity crisis, but let's face it, still pretty hot. The DJ was spinning the classics and any DJ that can integrate rock into a set gets a thumbs up in my book.Schiller's Liquor Bar - Run by the same people that made Balthazar. Ambiance couldn't be cooler, think retro French cafe meets Tribeca loft. What can I say? I' m a sucker for 'ze cafes.

note: I've purposely been toning down the posts with pics of friends and folks. Just decided it best for the sake of privacy.

I enjoyed "Sin City". Perhaps not as much as a lot of people, but it was pretty good and artistically stunning. Now, I could sit here and say the same for "300" but I think the meat of it would basically be: it was pretty good and athletically stunning.

I mean seriously. How defined can one's abs be? Well, this movie brought that to a new level. There's a scene where the Spartan soldiers crest a hill and the vaseline-lathered, ultra flexed muscles of the men cast in painfully perfect lighting on a super slow-mo camera cause the entire female audience to go into convulsions and the men to put aside their buttered popcorn and start poking their belly's in shame. The camera never goes 10 minutes without making sure you're aware those abs are there. After all, they did go thru ridiculously grueling workouts to get those puppies.

I digress. Heck, I didn't even talk about the movie. Let's just say it's worth a watch, but only if you're a woman (or man) that wants to swoon. Otherwise, it's just endless amounts of slow-mo-gore and chiseled cheekbones. If I could review this just on the cinematography and visual effects I'd give it a 5 stars hands down but alas, that is not the case.

So, I was listening to this song before I realized it had been vaulted into the market machine, that was, The O.C. So bear with me on this recommendation... If you ever heard the old school song "Forever Young" (and not the Rod Stewart ballad) by Alphaville then you'll definitely dig the remake.

Australian rockers Youth Group first reached American audiences on The O.C., doing a cover of a decrepit Eighties oldie, Alphaville's "Forever Young." Dude -- that wasn't even Alphaville's best song! "Big in Japan," my man! But even if The O.C. is history, Youth Group are destined for hugeness. On their third album, they wield massive choruses, stadium-ready production and the keening vocals of Toby Martin. He may sing like Coldplay's Chris Martin (no relation), but with "Let It Go" and "Start Today Tomorrow," he's singing better tormented-lover-boy rock ballads than Coldplay have managed in years. "Sorry" is their best, as Martin bombards his ex with questions: "Did you find what you were looking for in Room Thirteen on the sixteenth floor?/. . . Did you find what you were looking for in the silence between his snores?/. . . Do you find these European handball players beautiful?" In a post-O.C. world, Youth Group keep the fires burning.

I don't have children, I don't have a great deal of disposable income, and I'm not looking to really impress. But I certainly am guilty of loving impressive things. Unabashedly so.

The other day I was walking down Madison Avenue and came across something I've only seen a few other times and it always gives me pause. I just wish that I had taken a photo of it. Instead, I'll just write for your imagining pleasure. So close your eyes and have someone read this aloud. If no one's around to read it or your ashamed to admit you read my blog then just read on:

Madison Avenue, midtown New York on a slightly overcast and drizzly day. You're walking at a slowish pace because you've got 20 minutes to burn before lunch, as you round the corner on 49th street heading South towards Murray Hill your eyes catch a glimmer of blue amongst the sea of yellow taxis and black town cars, parked waiting for their next fare. You take a second look, trying to make out exactly what it is sitting there parallel parked ever-so-well and you see. You see a Pacific blue, 4.2 liter, 8 cylinder, 6-speed manual, all-wheel drive, German sports sedan. It's clean, and the clouded sun casts just the right light giving the hue an almost surreal effervescence. You walk up to the vehicle and it's low haunches just scream 90mph Autobahn stormer even at standstill. You longingly pat the keys in your left pocket wishing that there was just one... just one more key on there that unlocked the doors to this four door euphoria. Alas, it is not so and all you can do is gaze at and into the vehicle.

But as your eyes try to take in the leather and rubber bound glory of the black on black interior you notice something oddly out of place. No, not the venti chai latte in the cupholder... What is this interior-tumor and why is it in my dream? As your brain processes what you're seeing you come to the realization that it's an Graco SnugRide2 baby car seat strapped in (for dear life) to the rear center bench. Suddenly you look down and see the corner of a wet-nap dispenser and what is this? A Coach purse?? Egads, where has this vision gone?

Well, in just a few seconds, it all comes together. It must be a mother. A mother with an infant, driving a car. A 420 horsepower, 0-60 in 4.8 seconds (Corvette, Porsche 911 times, mind you), racing blue Deutschland-born monster.

And by god... that baby must be having one helluva good time.

Now, that's, pretty hot.

p.s. no specific reason for all the car posts lately... or maybe I just miss my car.

The week in review. Well, that or just some random photos I took from the Treo over the past week. But you wouldn't know if I hadn't just said that now would you...

(Left To Right)- Club/Lounge 'Pressure' in Union Square- Evidence that I met someone born in Germany with a Tennessee driver's license because it's the easiest state to get a license in.- The night I left my keys at the office for the, ugh, 6th time.- Drilling 20 3/8" holes in my pre-war plaster wall to install shelves from the Container Store. Only needed 10 of them.- Eating at Panna II, with the lowest ceilings of any building I have ever stood in. The menus and table place mats were a great head rest though.- Dinner at Bann with Diane- Nasty, dirty, New York street snow. Oh, and my left foot.- Momoko, Erica and Keiko at Divine Bar- Another shot of me standing at Panna II (yes, the ceilings are that low and yes, there are that many christmas lights hanging from the ceiling)- Zip Burger, mmmm...- Nike Sumo Squared SasQuatch driver at the Golf Digest Judges Panel social.

If any of you are growing weary of my fabulously miserable post titles then let me know. Otherwise I'll continue bombarding you with the best in the worst diatribes my bulbous brain can conjure up.

Despite it's overwhelming franchised-ness and blase' execution I still frequent Starbucks once every week. Sometimes it's just easier to get my cafe' au lait from the bux rather than make it on my own. Or pay some french bistro $15 for a non-to-go version.

I'm also a mighty big proponent of text messaging (sorry Jon), so when I heard that I can simply text my zip code to MYSBUX and be told exactly where the nearest three Starbucks are to me and how to get there, well... I was pretty jazzed. Oh, and it's also got a nifty little map if your phone can handle it.

... sometimes it's just the little things.

If that's not exciting enough for you, then perhaps these interesting facts from Gizmodo will inspire a little more hatred for the uber-franchise.

Number of web searches for nearest Starbucks in 1/07 = 3 millionNumber of locations in the US = 9,400Number of new Starbucks stores opened every day = 4

Because if I still got my $5 every Friday, I would start saving those five dollars every week for 14,500* weeks and the day I turned ripe young age of 305, I'd run, nay... Rascal, my way right out to the nearest dealership and buy myself one of these puppies: The Porsche Cayman (with newly released Aero Kit, for those of you who care to know these kinds of things)

Oh, and before you go and say... whew, that's a nice looking Porsche. Make sure and correct yourself by saying "por-sha" (two syllables and rhyming with Tasha).

No doubt some of you have heard of the Drudge Report story going around that claims Al Gore's mansion in Nashville, TN racks up a $1400 electric bill per month. There, of course, has been a good response back from the former Veep explaining their usage of Green Power, but either way I thought it a good time to do a little comparison. I can't help but feel bad for the Powerpoint Presenter Debonaire. I love the Drudge report but know it's unabashedly bias, yet I must. have. it. daily.

Remember that day our friend, who I will anonymously refer to as Allyson, looked at her Caller ID and said, "Who's compusa?". Well, it so happen that it was yours truly calling from my work alma mater... the infamous CompUSA and that joke lived on for at least two more months forever ingraining the word "compusa" in my mind as I forged my way to work every day at the geek-haven sporting my red shirt, emblazoned gold name tag and proud sign on my shoulder that said "Hello I am Eric. Call me Dork."

Well, it's sad because as much as I enjoyed those days it appears CompUSA is going to be closing 128 stores across the nation. The smaller cities are supposed to remain. It makes me wonder what's being said at these board meetings when they're deliberating over the fate of 50+ faithful disgruntled employees in Knoxville selling DDR-667 Mhz RAM, 256mb PCI-Express Video Cards, and overpriced IEEE-1384 (omg, did I just write that) Parallel Cables to East Tennessee consumers.

Eh, They're probably just tossing darts. Sadness.

For those of you I used to work with that are reading this... kind of puts another nail in the coffin about the D. George regime...boo.

I was forwarded this article from my friend who I can't recollect ever having forwarded me anything but since it was directed only to me I thought it should be read. Anyway, it was on Yahoo! Health and since I generally like Yahoo's content I did an actual read instead of my general one finger fly thru.

The article lists the 15 things men are generally most afraid of. Most people women think they know what men are most afraid of but I'm willing to take a stab at saying that they're often WAY off. Let this list give you some answers, it surely shed some light on the subject for me.

#15 Hair in the drain. The first sign of male pattern baldness brings a man face-to-follicle with a skimpy aspect of his future. And it's always earlier than he expects or wants (which is, like, never). Logically, men know that baldness is as much of a part of life as Leno making Britney jokes. Logically, men know that being bald doesn't mean that they're any less smart, virile, or successful. Logically, men know that women don't care how much hair their men have. Logically, men know there are plenty of bald men who are comfortable in their skin--no matter how much of it they're showing. But when it first happens, it feels like stepping on a scale and being 20 pounds heavier or waking up in high school with a quarter-sized nose pimple. It's the inevitable and uncontrollable change in appearance that men try so desperately to protect. Maybe even more importantly, this moment when a man starts losing his hair says a lot about him-whether he's cool enough to handle it, or anxious enough to attempt to deny it with combovers, Rogaine, or faith healers.

#14 Getting caught noticing another woman. A man's instinctual response to visual stimulation very rarely has anything to do with his current relationship or how he feels about it. But his lizard brain reacts instantly, and before he knows he's doing it, he's looking at someone else. We hate having to explain behaviors that even we don't fully understand.

#13 Rejection. Doesn't matter whether it happens after a job interview, or at a bar, or on the basketball court. And remember, there's a difference between losing and being outright rejected. Men can handle losing a game or having a bar conversation disintegrate into nothing. But the proud creatures that men are, they hate having their shots blocked. Mainly, that's because it means that someone else has the upper hand-and is gloating about it.

#12 Super Nanny.

#11 Speedos.

#10 His dad's death. It's his most powerful moment of a reflection, as he thinks about his own mortality. Becoming the family patriarch is heavy stuff. For many men, it's a life-changing moment, because they think about what their fathers did for them and what they failed to do. The next step: Considering what they need to do to be better dads and better men themselves--which means they must confront their own failures, as well. That's a lot for a grief-stricken man to deal with. He should get some latitude to do that in his own way. For him, reaching out may be through what seem like misdirections--more chatter about fishing with friends, an extra set of tickets to the Phillies showdown with the Mets. But guys need a reason to get together; the talk will come during a slow point in the 6th inning, or in the car on the way home.

#9 Her tears. Men know it's natural, that women need to do it, and that it's a signal that they better provide something more than just a tissue-even though many men have no clue what that something might be. Men have been told that women cry for all kinds of reasons-to release some emotions, to get our attention, or just because dammit, The Bachelor rose ceremony is so stinkin' sad. Men want to do the right thing, but because men don't navigate those falling waters very often, they probably do the wrong thing more often than not. Which is another reason why they fear her emotional tsunami.

#8 Being a lousy lover. Of all the things that men want to happen in bed, pleasing their women ranks near the top of the list, according to a national Men, Love, and Sex survey by Harris Interactive. Men hate to think that women may be bored, unimpressed, or unsatisfied. Maybe it's an ego thing (okay, it is an ego thing), but men do very genuinely care about how much pleasure a woman is having in bed. That's why the faking thing drives men so crazy. To men, feigned pleasure is code for: You're so damn terrible at this, but there there, little fella, I'm gonna make you feel good about your inadequate self. Men want to know what women want, and they want to be successful in delivering it.

#7 Not being a god to his kids. There comes a time when men don't care much about what strangers, co-workers, friends, in-laws, or anybody else thinks about them. But when a kid articulates his father's flaws, it's the ultimate heart crumbler. Men know that sometimes they work too much or are too short-fused or simply fall short on the hero-dad meter, but deep down, they know it's the most important job that they're going to do. And if they don't do it right, they know there's a significant chink in their masculine armor.

#6 Living paycheck to paycheck. Even though men aren't the only hunters and providers anymore, they still feel a deep evolutionary pull to provide the backbone and protection for their tribe. When men lose money, can't make enough money, or are scrounging for money, it can be an emotional disaster-it makes them feel like they're losing control in their lives.

#5 Beautiful women. Few things intimidate men more than IRS audits and 12-foot birdie putts. A beautiful woman is one of them. A beautiful woman-whether spotted at work, in bookstores, driving in the next lane, anywhere-simply has the power to turn a man of steel into creamed corn. Men know this. Men try to resist this. Ultimately, it's a challenge. Beauty may be a short-lived form of power, but it is profound, and nearly all men cower before it. It can make them do really, really stupid things.

#4 Getting naked. Ladies shouldn't think that they're alone in fleshy hang-ups. Guys are just as concerned about what women will initially think about their body hair, muscles, guts, toes, and other parts. Men are deeply aware that they can be too fat, too skinny, too hairy, too smelly, and while men are eager to revel in a woman's body, they also share anxiety about revealing their own.

#3 Tofurky.

#2 Not seeing his kids grow up. Death, of course, scares everyone-not so much for the bad stuff that may happen to them, but for missing out on all the good stuff that will happen to their kids. Or, worse yet, not being around to protect them from the bad stuff.

# 1 Public humiliation. Here's one that will make even the strongest men cave: Looking weak. Whether a man is extremely secure-or insanely insecure-about himself, he's worries that he'll look incompetent, idiotic, or both. Doesn't matter whether it's a zipper malfunction, an off-color joke he mistakenly slips in during a speech, a dismissive statement by a boss in a department meeting, fumbling the fly ball at a softball game, getting arrested for fighting after his kid's soccer game, whatever. It's one thing to make mistakes. But making the reputation-damaging ones in public is tough to take. That's because as much as men try to protect their homes, their families, their appearance, and their jobs, perhaps the most nerve-wracking job of all is protecting the thing they can't cure with money, with effort or with laser hair removal: their reputations.

Getting roundhoused by a woman in a business suit is pretty scary too. Trust me, I live in New York, I should know...

What's up with my recommendations? Well I don't know. Someone mentioned that I should start sharing more of what it is that I'm listening/reading/watching/making/doing. So I'm obliging. Anyway, something that I've had repeating on the ol' iPod-aramus-prime is Eric James & The New Lights.

I would best describe his album (it's only an EP) as a cross between Death Cab for Cutie, Pete Yorn (bear with me now...), and Coldplay. I know, egads that I would dare use Coldplay as reference but I am so there, deal with it.

If you don't feel like playing the $5 dollar admission to get his full EP on iTunes then take a swing over to Eric James & the New Century's myspace page and take a listen for yourself. Yuppie? Yes. Contemporary? Yes. Will you listen to it? Yes.

Men ,and just as equally women, should know how to tie a Double Windsor (aka: the Full Windsor). No not just because it's one helluva good looking knot but because it creates the perfect dimple and is pretty simple to boot. Oh, and why should the ladies know? Because let's face it - there's nothing really hotter than a woman that can pull their man over closer and tie one kick ass knot :)

The thing about the Double Windsor is that it goes well with french cuff shirts. Simple collar shirts fare better with the Half Windsor. If you want to know how to tie that or the Pratt (Shelby) knot then you can take a peek her at this site. It's got some great illustrated instructions.

I've decided what my 'new' drink is. And feel free to order it next time you're out. It's called the Modern Aviation and it's tasty. Not to mention it has a great name when ordering. If your bartender doesn't know what it is then follow my three step program:

1. Slap him/her2. Tell him/her to pour three ounces of their (or your) choice of vodka, splash a little maraschino liquor, squeeze a half lime and shake it over ice and pour into the best tumbler or highball glass they've got behind the counter on rocks... kind of like the ones to the right but without the single malt scotch. If they're feeling especially frisky then maybe they'll drop a mint leaf or two on top.3. Tip them well, either way.

Listen up... a drink like this is meant to be enjoyed. If you're interested in getting geigered up then do that on your own accord but honestly, why when something like this is so good when consumed so slowly your esophagus writes you a Gold Crown Thank You card?

Taken from the rooftop of the Olevia apartment building near Madison Square Gardens. My friend's apartment building has some spectacular views of Southern Manhattan. The day was frigid but the clouds were especially fluffy looking. I just said "fluffy" - I think that meets my allowable "fluffy" quota for the year.

5:30pm - Go to Chelsea Piers for a Golf Digest panel and demonstration of the newest golf clubs for 2007.6:00pm - Hands chaffed from hitting golf clubs (without glove) in 10 degree weather6:15pm - Lust after latest clubs but stand strong7:30pm - Head uptown to the Upper East Side for a movie screening ("Tazza" - a Korean gambling movie I'm sure will be remade in Hollywood in the next year or so, fantastic) at Imaginasian Theatre.7:40pm - Cab driver falls asleep at wheel while driving thru the Helmsley Building tunnels and slams into a Lincoln town car.7:40:001pm - My face plows right into the plexiglass barrier. Blackberry goes flying out of my hand,7:40:005pm - I say "What the ...."7:41pm - Cab and Livery driver begin exchanging heated words. I decide not to join and in a flurry of activity hop into another cab and proceed heading up town. After jotting down driver's info of course. Carmin Bichotte, Cab#4D57K have some talking to do.7:50pm - Arrive at 59th St.7:50:05pm - Realize I've forgotten my other coat in the taxi as I get out in a rush.7:50:10pm - Start sprinting after cab'7:51pm - Catch cab at next intersection, open back door, grab coat and say "Coat, It's cold." to driver.7:52pm - Run back to theatre to be greeted by stereotypical 17 year old attendant who won't let me in.7:55pm - Friend Diane comes out and lets me in with two jackets, scarf and gym bag. Of course, they're sitting in the middle of the row. Sorry, oops, sorry, oops.8:45pm - Enjoy last 50 minutes of "Tazza".9:00pm - Head out for dinner... in the oh so close yet 9000 miles away Flushing, Queens11:30pm - Get back to Roosevelt Island (where one of the guys lived) to pick up my bag out of his car.12:00am - Arrive at apartment.12:05am - Realize my keys are not with me.12:06am - Headache ensues.12:10am - Hope in cab and head for office.12:25am - Arrive at office.12:30am - See keys on desk under project folder. Start massaging temples.12:45am - Get back to apartment. Throw two coats, scarf, couple of books, gym bag, shoes, socks, pantalones, shirt, tie on couch and begin crying.1:00am - Pack gym bag for morning while brushing teeth.1:11am - Realize I have been brushing my teeth in excess of 10 minutes as I sit on corner of bed with headache.1:15am - Set alarm clock phone. Hit the sack.7:00am - Wake up. Write this post, and head to gym.

Admit it, you like Grey's Anatomy - even if the second season is still crammed commercial break to commercial break of tired cliches. One of the parts I like most about the show is Patrick Dempsey's home, the Airsteam trailer parked in the middle of some impossibly green woods soundstage. Of course having Kate Walsh a.k.a. Addison Shepherd there waiting for you every now and then. Anyway, I came across this tour of a motor home and thought it a good interpretation of Patrick Dempsey's place had he lived somewhere in the Rheinland.

Midweekpost.com
is a take on New York City thru the eyes (and camera) of an OCD, ADD, Scorpio written in the timeless, Thoreau inspired, form of blogging. Or as we like to refer to
it: ADD writing for ADD reading. It's authored by a most contradictive guy armed with a most applicable Univ. of Tennessee economics degree working in the media industry
as a producer (you're damn right that's cliche') of design (huh?) for a major broadcast company's digital initiative (say wha?) that has somehow managed to
find his Korean, yet not Korean looking self living in the city that Ambien & Cosmo induced coma never sleeps. All that said, I don't promise greatness and I won't promise awesome but I will
promise New York and a little dash o' me.